Elder Scrolls V Skyrim: Shadow Rising
by Graedusk
Summary: Join us on this journey as we watch a young boy forge his legacy in shadows, blood and fire. More inside. Will have romance eventually but it's a slow burner.
1. Chapter 1

Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim – Shadow Rising

Chapter 1 – Thief

"_Scratch, scratch, scratch, snap!" _Was the repetitive sound that filled the small, dimly lit, stone walled room as a small figure picked at a dastardly difficult lock holding a great chest tightly closed.

Placing another pick into the keyhole he began slowly turning the lock, almost there and…"_ Yes!" _He shouted internally as the lock finally gave way and opened the huge chest. Looking inside, the boy allowed a smirk to form on his face – inside where two ebony daggers, a small diamond with nought a blemish on it, several silver ingots and finally – the grandest prize – a large silver mould in the shape of a sword, an intricate web of design work and filigree interlaced masterfully.

Picking the loot up he placed it all carefully in his knapsack, now full to the brim he slung it on his back and made to take his leave, leaving the inhabitants of the house none the wiser.

As the huge dwemer door swung shut behind him he quickly slunk into the shadows, as their comforting embrace surrounded him, he took off towards The Warrens, his home and the lowest slum of the city of Markarth. The door shut behind him and he finally allowed himself to relax, walking over to Garvey – the self-assumed "leader" of the inhabitants of The Warrens – he pulled back his rough spun hood, letting his shaggy dark hair fall over his face.

"What you got for me lad?" Garvey said in his voice that sounded as though it was spoken through a mouthful of razor blades. The boy opened his bag and withdrew the twin ebony daggers, the diamond, ingots and the large silver mould. "Should fetch a nice price with the fences, the Silver Bloods shouldn't miss it." He said smirking as he handed the goods over.

Garvey raised an eyebrow. "You actually managed to get into the Silver Bloods place? How many picks did you go through lad?" He chortled ruffling the boy's hair. "Go on, get some rest your coin will be dropped to you in the morning." Garvey dismissed him, walking to the end of The Warrens he pushed his door open, locking it behind him he threw himself down on his threadbare bedroll falling asleep instantly.

_The next morning... _

The door to The Warrens burst open as the City Guard trooped in, swords drawn and eyes searching. "Everybody up! Out where we can see you. NOW!" Came a loud commanding voice, the boy scrambled up. "_Shit, shit, shit I know that voice!" _He thought franticly to himself. Stepping out of his small room, he silently prayed that Garvey had managed to get the goods to the fence already.

"The great family Silver Blood has had one of there precious silver moulds stolen, we believe the thief responsible is a resident of these parts. Step forward and you will be spared Cidhna Mine and instead be banished from the Reach, never to return. Do not step forward, and the full force of the Jarl's authority will be brought down on you. "The captain spoke in his deep Nord voice.

He didn't move an inch, spared Cidhna Mine? Bullshit they'd throw him in there and throw away the key if he gave himself up. As he was thinking all this however, the guard dragged a limp form forward and slapped his bloody face, waking him from his beating induced slumber. "This is your "leader" is it not? Garvey, you know everything that goes on down here, who stole the mould." The captain asked planting a solid kick to the Breton man's ankle.

He screamed in pain. "I'll not tell you anything! Filthy Nord scum!" He shouted in a pained voice. He soon wished he hadn't, the guard captain threw him to the floor and kicked down on the back of his knee savagely, hearing the bone shatter Garvey let out an excruciating shriek and begged the guard to stop. "I'm, I'm so sorry lad." He heard Garvey whisper.

"It-it was h-him Ca-Captain. The m-mould is in the s-sack by the d-door" Were the words that sealed the boy's fate, the guards reacted instantly- strong hands gripped him by his upper arms and his wrists were bound tightly in iron. "You're coming with me." Was all he heard before a steel armoured fist connected with his face.

-x-

He heard metal clapping on stone, felt his knees being dragged along rough stone and then a savage thud as his small body hit the floor. "Get up, Thonar Silver-Blood wants to speak to you." Came the Captains voice, opening his eyes – he found himself in the small, dimly lit room he had stolen the mould from in the first place.

"So, you're the one that's caused such a nuisance for me and my family, _hmph_ I expected someone taller." Said Thonar, stepping forward he knelt in front of the boy. "You know I am actually rather impressed, the lock on that chest is one of the best septims can buy. In another life I may have hired you, but alas you've stolen from me. As such you must – regrettably – be disposed of. Take him away from here, throw him to the rocks – no one will miss him." The boys head shot up and he tried in vain to scramble away from the guards, but one strike from a huge steel warhammer sent him sprawling to the ground, passing out instantly.

What felt like hours later, he woke to the sound of wind and rain pounding in his ears, a pair of strong arms held his bound wrists and legs up off the ground. Opening his eyes, he stared ahead, the cliff edge loomed ever closer. "Should have stayed asleep lad, it'd be easier." Came the captains voice, reaching the cliff edge they threw him down onto his knees. Looking over the edge he gulped anxiously, a fall from this height onto the rocks below would leave his body battered and broken, oh and not to mention – dead. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry it came to this kid." The guard captain said before kicking him solidly in the middle of his back, flying over the edge he didn't even have time to let out a terrified scream before his body rag dolled off countless rocks, before finally landing with a sickening _crunch _in the river far below. The guard stood for a moment longer, he had to make sure the boy was dead – otherwise it'd be him they'd toss of next. Seeing the boys unmoving form, he bowed his head. "Talos save you, lad." He muttered before taking his leave.

Little did he know, the boys hand twitched in the cold water, sending bolts of pain up his arm and chest. His legs where unresponsive, his head felt as though it was being weighed down and his whole body was in absolute agony.

He spotted movement in the corner of his eye, a large form of a woman – she wore pelt armor, maybe sabre cat going by the distinctive blonde colouring. It was when she drew her sword that he knew who she was, a long piece of wood with what looked like teeth running down it, if that wasn't enough – the great stag helm on her head confirmed it, she was a Forsworn.

As she approached him, she took her helm off – her dark red hair tumbling around her face, black warpaint in a single ribbon across the eyes. "Damn those Nords, they do something like this to a child of there own kind? Monsters, we will save you youngling." Was all he heard from her before passing out.

The tall Breton Forsworn lifted his small, broken body into her arms, careful not to aggravate his injuries further she held him close as she walked to her camp, Druadach Redoubt – entering through the camps main gate she quickly approached their leader.

"Philbard! Come quickly." She called him over, settling the boy down on the ground by the fire. "Caytte! You dare bring a filthy Nord to our home? Have you taken leave of your senses!" Came Philbard's voice as he approached. "Philbard, the Nords did this to him! I saw them throw him from a cliff top like he was a lame sheep, we must do something to help him! He is but a child, we do not kill children." Caytte said standing up and facing down the taller Philbard. He glared at her through his stag horned helmet, his hand twitching for his war axe ever insistently.

"Look at him brother, he looks as though he's not seen five winters. Save him." She pleaded, reluctantly dropping his gaze to the small battered form, he did fine sympathy stirring in him. The child was broken and no healing spell he could command would save him. "I…cannot, his injuries are to severe for my skill to heal, take him to the hagraven." He ordered two-foot soldiers standing nearby to bear the boy to the altar inside the cave.

"Eolayn! We need your help." Called Philbard as he rushed up the dirt slope leading to the Hagraven's altar. The Hagraven in question tramped forward on her long sinewy limbs. "You bring a Nord here, mortal." She said in her gravely half-screeching voice. "The child was thrown from a cliff by those bastard usurping Nords in Markarth, we may be savages living out here, but we are not monsters. You must save him." Came Caytte's voice, at her words the Hagraven bristled and used her eldritch magic to bring Caytte surging forward into her bony grip. "I do not _have _to do anything, Forsworn. I serve you only if you serve me. Remember that before you _dare _command me." The Hagraven snarled, letting Caytte fall to the floor in an undignified heap. "Place him up here." She commanded the foot soldiers holding the boy, laying him on the altar she looked over his body now drenched in blood. "He is close to death, there is but one thing I can do. Prepare a Briarheart!" She commanded and Philbard looked flabbergasted. "Surely the boy will not survive the ritual. And a Nord becoming a Briarheart Warrior? The King will not approve." He said stepping forward, the Hagraven turned to face him. "If you so desperately want to save the boy, then becoming one with the Briarheart is the only way. Now move aside." She commanded, Philbard reluctantly moved away and the Hagraven began her eldritch ritual cutting into the boys limp chest, after a long few minutes of slicing she pushed her hand into the child's chest and withdrew his still beating heart – tossing it to the flames she placed the Briarheart into the formed cavity and then finally intoned the ancient script to bring a Briarheart Warrior to life:

Thorn and blood.

The briar heart's limbs sway.

Feather and fear.

The briar heart's limbs awaken.

Bone and claw.

The briar heart's limbs kill.

Die, briar heart, and lurch to life again.

As these ancient words were spoken, a myriad of colour surrounded the boy, fiery red, forest green and sinister purple swirled around his small form. As the light settled in his chest, a great ethereal light erupted out of his body, originating in his ribcage it blinded all nearby and stretched to every corner of the cave.

"_Dir, krent kiir, Alok, goraan dovah, Alok, mahlaan grohiik, Alok Dovahkiin!" _These words pounded in the ears of the inhabitants of the cave, though none there knew the tongue which they were spoke. As the chaos subsided, the boys limp form fell to the altar, and breathed no more.

_A.N. Well hello there my freaky darlin's! Apologies for the radio silence, I'm a busy person and it got in the way of my story writing. Anyhoo, I'm back! My two Harry Potter stories are at this moment discontinued but I may go back to them in the future. _

_Getting on to this fic, I'm an avid player of Skyrim and read the lore for fun so this fic should be mostly lore friendly, a few disclaimers, the translation for the above Dovahzul comes off of the Dovahzul dictionary – tell you what, who can tell me what it says? Leave it in a review and I'll announce a winner next week, and the incantation the Hagraven speaks is the Rites of the Abomination from ESO. I own none of these things, just having fun. _

_At the time of uploading this I'll already be working on the next chapter so with that, till next we meet. _

_Seya soon my freaky darlin's!_

Grae.


	2. Chapter 2

Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim – Shadow Rising

Chapter 2 – Saviour

"_Bloody stone beds, I really don't know how the vermin in this city stand them!" _Ondolemar grumbled internally, arising from his slumber he donned the robes of the Thalmor Justiciar and strode from his chamber. "Guards!" He shouted and almost immediately his personal bodyguards walked from there own rooms, fully clad in golden elven armor. "When you're ready Justiciar." One spoke, Ondolemar nodded and walked from his quarters.

"And you're sure the guards disposed of the boy?" A hurried whisper came from a solitary corner, with his keen hearing the Altmer heard the somewhat heated exchange with interest.

"When have I ever failed to dispose of troublesome pests' brother mine?" The second voice said in a sniping tone. "The boy was flung from the hills, the guards assured me – nobody could survive a fall like that." Said the second voice again.

"We can't have it getting back to the Jarl, they'd run us out of town if they knew we'd been disposing kids." The first voice said. The second voice laughed. "HA! The Jarl is a simple-minded fool who takes advice off his uncle, let me deal with him Thongvor." The second voice said. "_What are the Silver-Bloods up to?" _He thought to himself.

"You there, Silver-Blood. I wish to speak to you." He ordered, striding forward and using his advanced height to tower over the two Nords.

"What do _you _want you pointy eared milk drinker?" Thongvor said aggressively, stepping forward and uncrossing his steel plated arms. The Thalmor's eyes narrowed, he didn't take well to disrespect. As he felt a ice spike forming in his hand, he forced his magic back down and instead glared down at the Nord. "Watch your tongue boy, wouldn't want it to get you in trouble." He said evenly.

The Nord made to step forward but a hand on his arm stopped him. "Thongvor, calm yourself. Leave us." He said calmly though a threatening note could be detected. The armoured Nord glared intensely for a few more moments. "Listen to your brother, boy." He said, eyes boring into the man.

Thongvor growled but stomped away moodily. "He would rip you into pieces if he could." Came the other Nord's voice. Turning, Ondolemar regarded the younger Silver-Blood. "I'd like to see him try, now tell me – what where to noblemen talking about in such hushed and heated tones? Nothing heretical I trust." He said glaring at the man.

To his credit, the man didn't flinch at the Thalmor's veiled threat. "Nothing that concerns you Thalmor, just a little pest control." He said making to walk away but Ondolemar's guard had him by his arms in an instant.

"What? What are you doing?! I am Thonar Silver-Blood, noble of the highest order! Let me go at once or I'll have you dragged to Cidhna Mine!" He shouted flailing in the guard's grip. "You are only a noble of the highest order as long as I allow it boy, I could seize your slave-mine and strip you of all your wealth in an instant, even the Warrens would be too good for you. Know your place boy, or I will drag you into it." He said holding his hand up with a swirling ice spell held there.

The guards dropped the now snivelling man to the floor in an undignified heap. Leaning down, Ondolemar lifted the man's chin, forcing him to look at him. "If I find even the slightest evidence that you are not telling me the truth, we'll be having this conversation again." He said and kicked the man to the stone flagged floor. Running like a scared rabbit, the man made the huge door to the keep in record time.

"Organise a patrol and bring me the Captain of the Guard. I want to know what the Silver-Bloods wanted rid of so badly." He ordered his guards, glaring at the ground for a moment – he then collected himself and made his way back to the Jarls throne.

-x-

The camp was in cinders, most of the inhabitants dead or seriously injured. The Hagraven had been the first to fall, being in such close proximity to the boy, no child… Nobody knew what had happened, the boy had undergone the Briarheart Ritual, but then – the ethereal light had erupted from him, words in an ancient tongue permeated the air around them. Then the boy moved no more, those that had survived had checked his vitals, they'd called it.

The boy was dead.

Despite him being a Nord, his sworn enemy as a member of the Forsworn. Philbard felt sympathy stirring in him for the loss of the boy's life, as Caytte had said – they weren't monsters. The boy had been killed by his own kind, for what crime he did not now – but what he did know was that the filthy usurpers would pay most dearly for it.

The men bore him to the river on a bed of straw, animal pelts and wood. Not the native tradition of the Breton people who practiced cremation and ground burial mostly, but the boy was a Nord and as such would be given back to the land of his blood.

Laying him to rest on the riverbed, they stood a few moments in solemn silence. "We must depart, come let us go home." Philbard spoke, the rest of his company all nodded and took there leave.

-x-

Sat in a ornate looking chair in his personal interrogation chamber, Ondolemar looked up as his guards brought the Guard Captain in. "Good of you to join us Captain, I have a few questions which you will answer." He said looking at the Nord man with surety. "Oh, is that right? What makes you think I'll answer any of your questions Elf?" The man spoke with embittered hatred compounded by years of fighting the Thalmor in the Great War.

Ondolemar leaned over the desk. "If you do not, I will make whatever horrors you witnessed in the Great War look like a pleasurable experience." He looked the man in the eye as he did this and saw fear sparking in them. "W-what do y-you w-want?" He stuttered, sweat beading on his forehead.

"The Silver-Bloods, who were they so keen to get rid of?" He asked not breaking his gaze with the man.

"I-I can't t-tell you, the Si-Silver-Bloods, they'd-d ki-kill me, my f-family would be exiled, pl-please d-don't m-make m-me!" The man begged and Ondolemar sneered at the pathetic nature of him. "If you do not tell me. Your wife, your son, will be tied to horses and dragged from here to High Rock, your daughter sold into slavery and you will be made to watch, then I'll split your skull and hang you from the gates as a warning to all who would defy the Thalmor." He snarled and stood from the table, throwing it against the wall and kicking the Nord to the floor.

"Or, you can tell me. I won't touch a hair on your family's head, possibly get you a promotion. How does Commander sound? You could provide the sort of life your family needs, buy that house you've been eyeing, maybe even ascend to Thane in time. All that could be yours, if you simply submit to Thalmor authority and tell me what I want to know. What say you Captain?" He said holding his hand out for the man.

After a long moment, the Captain's shoulders slumped, and he took the Elf's hand. "It was a thief, stole a one of a kind silver mould from the Silver-Blood's house. Thonar gave the order, I-I threw the lad from the cliffs myself." The man's voice croaked with the last bit.

Ondolemar stared for a moment, the Silver-Blood's where killing children then. Interesting, this could be used to his advantage. "Thonar ordered the death of a child? Over a silver mould? Seems a tad excessive to me." He said, looking down at the man.

"He said there was something special about it, had magical properties or something. That's all I know, I swear." He said, Ondolemar glanced at him. "I believe you; you may go. And here, for your troubles." He pressed a bulging sack of gold and jewels into the man's hands. "Escort the Commander out, he has a busy day tomorrow." He said to his guards.

After they had escorted the man home, Ondolemar stood looking out of his window. He would get his promotion; he would be a handy asset in future. "Has the patrol arrived?" He asked his guards quietly. "Yes sir, Ambassador Elenwen sent them as a matter of haste." One of them said. "Good, we leave tonight." He said drawing his cloak on.

-x-

Walking over the rocky crags of the Reach, the elven squad's boots made no sound as they traversed. "Sir! Over there, by the river!" Came a voice, rushing over the squad quickly came upon a rough bed made of straw, pelts and wood – what was disturbing was what lay upon it.

A boy with the ice like paleness of death enveloping him. "This must be him! Check for signs of life." He ordered; he would not touch the boy himself – not one to be sullied by weaker blood. "Sir, it looks almo-…AGHHHHHH!" The Altmer scout shrieked when a pale hand caught him round the neck, sightless eyes blazing like the fires of Oblivion. The boy was _alive _with strength that belied his weakened state, the boy threw the scout a fair distance away into the river, where he landed with a sickening _crunch _and moved no more.

He then shot upwards and ran with inhuman speed towards Ondolemar. Forming a frost spike in his hand he threw it at the boy, who appeared to not notice it as he continued his forward assault regardless. Jumping into the air the boy made to attack him, but just then he seized an opportunity and slammed the boy into the ground, focusing a large amount of magic in his palm he thrust his hand at the boy's head.

The gambit worked, the boy went limp in his grip and Ondolemar himself fell to his knees. Using that amount of raw magic like that was, inadvisable shall we say. Though the strike had killed larger and stronger men, the boy was apparently just unconscious.

What was going on here? Looking down, he saw a large hole in the boy's chest. A briarheart where his human heart used to be. "_Gods, the barbarians of the hills found him first._" He thought to himself.

"Prepare a cart! We make for the Embassy with all haste!" He shouted, immediately his guards sprang to action and within the hour the boy was being taken under armed guard to the Thalmor Embassy.

_AN: So, who saw that one coming then eh? ;) the next part will show the boys arrival at the Embassy, his naming, and I may do a bit of a time jump as well… I intend to put a bit more of my "poetic" type stuff in the next few chapters also, hope you enjoyed this chapter. Anyone translate the Dovahzul from last week? C'mon give it a go. _

_Do please review. _

_Until next we meet _

_Seya soon my freaky darlin's! _

Grae.


	3. Chapter 3

Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim – Shadow Rising

Chapter 3 – Everything changes

The stars shone onto the gilded gate, and the sounds of heavy hoof falls could be heard making their way towards the Embassy. Ambassador Elenwen, stood alone by her open window – silhouetted by the moonlight, her black and gold Thalmor robes swayed in the wind.

The gates swung open to admit Justiciar Ondolemar and his private guard. This was not out of the ordinary however, the tall Altmer had an air of worry about him and a suspicious charge slumped astride his horse. Deciding to investigate, the Ambassador strode down the stairs of her personal solar and out into the cold night air. "Ondolemar, while it pleases me to see you this is most irregular. Why have you arrived here at such an hour?" She asked looking suspiciously at him. Casting her eyes around, she counted ten men, plus Ondolemar's personal guard. She had sent twelve. "And why pray tell me have you only returned with ten of your requested guard when I sent twelve?" She now stepped up to Ondolemar's horse.

"My Lady apologies for disturbing you at such a late hour, the two men you speak of are dead. This boy killed them." For the first time, Elenwen noticed that the thing slumped on Ondolemar's horse was not in fact just a bundle of blankets, but a boy – not much past being a child.

"What? How could a _child _kill two of our warriors? Have you been drinking that Honningbrew swill again?" She asked incredulously. "My Lady I assure you, what I say is true. Let us get inside and I shall explain." Ondolemar ordered two of his men to carry there charge into the great hall and then he and the Ambassador followed closely behind.

Hours and hundreds of healing spells later, the Elven healers where finally satisfied that the boy was stable. "Now that we've spent hours and hundreds of septims worth of healing potions and spells on the boy, do you mind telling me just _what _is so special about him?" Elenwen asked as she and Ondolemar sat down in front of the fire.

"I was conducting my regular rounds in Markarth's Understone Keep when I overheard a conversation between Thonar and Thongvor Silver-Blood, they seemed very keen to keep it quiet, so I demanded a word with them. Neither was very forthcoming, so I ordered for the Captain of the Guard to be brought to me. He was much more…amenable. He told me that the Silver-Bloods had ordered he and his men to throw a thief from the cliffs, he'd apparently stolen a rare silver mould with magical properties. As you know the Silver-Bloods are somewhat of a troublesome family in Markarth and I was keen to have some leverage over them, so I ordered for a patrol – we found the boy quick enough. However, when we found him, it became apparent that the savages of the Reach got to him first. They had attempted to make him into a Briarheart. Probably out of some misplaced sense of honour at the killing of a child. They evidently thought they had failed because the boy was left on the riverbank, I like the rest of my men thought he was dead…but the dead don't move that fast. He threw one of them nearly ten feet in the air before he landed in the river, the second one he ripped apart like he was paper. He would have done the same to me had I not used my magic to sedate him." Ondolemar finished, Elenwen looked almost shocked.

"By the Aldmer of old, I've never heard of such a thing. We could use this to our advantage I think, the healers will see him again tomorrow morning, we shall see." She said and she and Ondolemar retired to their quarters for the night.

-x-

"_Awaken, Awaken child." _Spoke a soft, motherly voice. He looked around, or he would if he had eyes, or a body. "_Where am I?" _He thought to himself. _"You are in the in-between my child, you must awaken, only then can you fulfil it." _The voice answered. He was suspicious now. "_Fulfil what? Last I remember I…" _He trailed of, the last he remembered… He didn't. Nothing showed itself to him when he cast his mind back. "_Why can't I remember?" _He asked, knowing the voice could hear him.

"_Your mind is damaged young one, only through the seed in your chest. Where you able to survive, you must fulfil your destiny. Now WAKE UP!" _The world around him thundered and he saw a large bout of flame making its way towards him, just before it reached him…

He woke.

He couldn't move yet, his arms and legs refusing the action. So, he simply stared at the ceiling of the strange room he found himself in. After what felt like a century, his limbs started to stir – sitting up he found he was wrapped in bandages up to his neck and a peculiar itchy sensation coming from his chest before he could ponder the itchiness further, a tall Elven woman walked serenely into the room. "Ahh you're awake, good. Lady Elenwen would like to see you. I shall inform her immediately." She said and departed the room, the boy was then led from the small room into a grand hall where on a highly ornate throne sat who he presumed was Lady Elenwen.

"Ahh you are awake, come little one take a seat." She said kindly, though to the trained ear it was obvious this was little more than an act. The boy was ushered into a chair and he regarded Elenwen suspiciously. "I am Lady Elenwen, you where brought here by one of my Justiciars." She smiled at him in a way that lacked any real warmth and waved Ondolemar forward. "My name is Ondolemar, I was the one who found you my boy." He said politely with a small smile that did appear to be at least somewhat genuine.

The boy remained silent.

"Not a talkative one, are we? No matter, you'll soon come to trust us." Lady Elenwen said. "Do you remember anything other than waking up here my boy? Your name for instance?" She asked him, he thought for a moment and then very slightly shook his head and scratched at his chest.

"Ah yes that, well you see my child – we where not the first to find you, the natives of the Reach did. They performed one of there cruel rituals on you, you are now a Briarheart." Elenwen spoke evenly, the boy didn't know what she meant. "What's a Briarheart?" He said in little more than a whisper.

She smiled triumphantly and looked to Ondolemar. "Ondolemar, take the boy to the library. He will be under your tutelage for the foreseeable. You are to treat him as one of us, away now." Elenwen commanded and Ondolemar took the boy by the hand and lead him to the library.

In her throne room, Lady Elenwen waited until they where well out of earshot and turned to the healer. "It worked then; the boy remembers nothing from before he arrived here?" She asked, the healer nodded. "I am strong in the mind arts my Lady; the boy will never regain the memories of anything before he woke here." She said, Lady Elenwen smiled a sinister, cold smile. "He is gifted in the arts of stealth; we will mould him to our purpose. The Nord fools will never know what hit them when one of their own strikes out against them." She then stood from her throne and took her leave.

_9 years later _

Shadows, darkness, blood and fire, these where the things that made him whole. The shadows his domain, darkness his nature, blood his price and fire in his wake, it was all he had ever known since the fateful day 9 years ago when he awoke here, his "Home" if one could call it that. He was a creature, darkness given form – creatures didn't have homes.

He stood in the darkness of his personal quarters, deep below the Thalmor Embassy. Remembering the day, he awoke, almost like the day of his birth for he knew nothing of the events that brought him here. He had been led to the throne room and presented to Ambassador Elenwen – she always insisted he call her _mother, _but he had no mother, or father, nobody that could call him their own. After that he had been taken to the grand library by a man who he initially distrusted but had now grown to respect as close to a brother as he was capable. He had grown under Ondolemar's tutelage and learned much about the history of Skyrim and Tamriel, initially he was told that he was to be trained as a Thalmor Justiciar, however Elenwen had other plans. She oversaw his combat and magical training, seeing he had an aptitude for combat, stealth and magic – his intended purpose became an entirely more sinister one.

The first man he had ever killed was a visitor to the Embassy, a Khajiit merchant who was apparently trying to forge ties with the Thalmor. Negotiations went well and it looked as though the native of Elsweyr would get his deal, he had been granted an audience with Lady Elenwen and she had extended the courtesy of allowing him to stay the night in his own private lodgings. The oily man had greedily accepted and was shown to his room.

That night however, after everyone had feasted and drank as much wine as they could. The Khajiit – who had been getting steadily more flirtatious with some of the male company – had left the table in a drunken stupor, presuming he had gone back to his chambers too drunk to do anything else they had let him leave.

But you see he hadn't gone back to his chambers no, the man had ventured down, below the Embassy into the interrogation chambers and even further. What drove him down there, one could only guess but one thing was for sure – it would be his end.

You see it was a well-known fact among those in the know that this Khajiit merchant was a homosexual, or whatever word they use to describe one with a sexual preference for the same sex. Not that this was a problem of course, sexual preferences are no one else's business after all. No where the problem lie was that this merchant was attracted to a very specific age demographic.

Ten years old or younger, to be specific. This sort of behaviour was illegal in every civilized province on Tamriel and was punishable by death. So, when this perverted _creature _came to find himself in _his _domain, the sentence was passed.

He had decapitated the pathetic creature and dragged his body to the front gates, hanging it where the world could see what happened when you mess with the Thalmor.

He had killed more after that, more than one nobleman, Jarl and idealistic fools had fallen to his blade. Anyone who became a problem for the Thalmor, he slew without mercy or regret.

Hence his name: Feyn.

_A/N: Yeah, I'm a bastard for cliffies… hehehe, so what does everyone think? I'd been toying with the idea of not only a Briarheart Dovahkiin but a Nord Thalmor Assassin? That sounded very cool, don't worry we'll get into Feyn's inner mind in the next one, he's no puppet. If anyone has any questions or feedback, please do review. However, if your feedback is just "YOU'RE SO SHIT WHY DO YOU EVEN TRY?!" etc. Do us all a favour and just stop reading yeah? I don't have time for idiots with nothing to say. _

_Anyway, sorry about that peeps! _

_Until next we meet, _

_Seya soon my freaky darlin's! _

Grae.


End file.
